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She looks at me closely. “It’s not about the other night is it? Because it was nothing, you know? Digger and I were having a few drinks and talking about old times and one thing led to another… it won’t happen again. I promised your brother that.”
“It’s not about that, Mum, I’m just a bit sick.” I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with icy cold water. “I’ll see you later.”
“If you’re sure.” She sounds almost disappointed. As much as I hate to admit it, she’d do almost anything to get out of work.
“I’m certain.”
I spend the next couple of hours holding on to a phone that doesn’t ring. I send Callum messages and leave more voicemails but get no reply. While I wait for him I Google employment rights and learn that I pretty much have none. If Richards and Morgan want to sack me tomorrow, they can do so without causing themselves any problems.
The thought depresses me enough to cry myself to sleep for half an hour. I’m disoriented when a shrill ring cuts through the afternoon air, making me sit straight up in bed. I grab my phone, scrambling to answer the call. It’s hard to hide my disappointment when I see the name that flashes across the screen.
Diana Joseph.
For a minute I consider not answering, but the need to know what’s going on outweighs any ostrich-like tendencies I might have.
“Hello?”
“Amethyst, how are you feeling?”
So we’re back to that. “A little better. I’ve had a sleep.”
“That’s good to hear. We’d like to meet with you tomorrow morning. In the management conference room at ten o’clock.” Her voice sounds different somehow. More conciliatory maybe? I wonder if Jonathan has worked his magic on her, or even better, maybe Callum has.
Where the hell is Callum anyway? I check my watch; it’s almost four o’clock. There’s no way they would have kept him for this long, so why hasn’t he called?
“What’s the meeting about?” I ask. The drugged, just-woken feeling is finally wearing off.
“It isn’t a disciplinary hearing,” Diana says quickly
. “Really, it’s nothing to worry about. We just want to talk to you about a few things.”
“We?”
“Me and the partners on the Conduct Committee.”
Clearing my throat makes me realise how parched I am. I reach for the water beside my bed, letting the lukewarm liquid moisten my lips. There are cracks forming in the corner of my mouth.
“But it’s not a disciplinary?” I ask.
“No, not at all. Please don’t worry about the outcome, we just need to talk it through with you, and ensure that everything is okay.”
“What about Cal… Mr Ferguson? Is he going to be there?” I take another mouthful of water and swallow hard. The need to see him is pulsing through my veins. I’m desperate to talk to him, to check he’s okay, to feel his arms around me. More than anything I want to hear his voice telling me that I’m going to be okay.
“Mr Ferguson has met with us separately.” Her voice drops, as if she’s confiding in me. I still can’t interpret the weirdness of her change of tone. “You don’t have to worry about him being there tomorrow.”
I want to tell her I’m not worried about him being there. I want him to be there.
“Should I come into work as normal?” I ask, trying to work out whether I’m in as much trouble as I think.
“No need, just arrive at ten. We can talk about everything after that.”
She ends the call with a brief goodbye, and I stare at the screen for a moment, watching as the red phone symbol fades into nothing.
* * *
By six o’clock that evening I’m starting to feel like a prisoner in my own bedroom. The shock of the day seems to have paralysed my mind and body, and my thoughts can only focus on one thing: the need to find Callum. I’ve been calling him non-stop but his phone doesn’t connect. I’m guessing his voicemail is full of my messages.
I type out another futile text, and try to ignore the ache that’s throbbing in my chest.
